


Familiar Face

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Praying That It'll Be You [11]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Doppelganger, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Hartley Rathaway/Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “You don’t have to stay,” Barry murmurs. “I shouldn’t have made it sound like you did. I know how hard it is to look at that Harrison Wells and…and know he’s not the same but still think…” He shakes his head. “I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not him, and I only knew him for a year. You knew him a lot longer than that, of course it’s harder for you.”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway
Series: Praying That It'll Be You [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562548
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlightcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightcanary/gifts).



> For moonlightcanary, who asked about Hartley's first meeting with Harry. Hartley's self-hatred and tendency to downplay/unreliably report his trauma come into play a lot here, so be careful if those are potentially triggering!

Hartley has seen strange and awful things since coming to work at STAR Labs. This is not one that he could ever have imagined or, more importantly, prepared for. Harrison Wells is standing in the Cortex. 

“No.” It’s the only warning he gives before pushing his hands out in front of him. Wells’ frequency pulses across the Cortex, aimed directly for his chest. Just before impact, there’s a blur of lightning, and Barry leaps in front of the pulse. Hartley switches it off, but the damage is done. The force of the sound wave sends Barry to his knees, clutching his head. “Barry, what the fuck? Get out of the way before he hurts you!” 

Wells scoffs. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who just hurt him.”

“Shut your mouth!” Hartley snaps. His vision is going hazy around the edges. It’s been months since he last had a panic attack. Now isn’t the time. “I don’t know why you’re here, I don’t know when you’re from, but—”

“Hartley, Hartley, it’s okay!” Barry staggers to his feet. Wells is right, as little as Hartley likes to admit it—Hartley hurt him. He feels low and mean and _so fucking filthy._ “This isn’t Thawne. This is Harrison Wells’ doppelganger from Earth-2. He’s here to stop Zoom, he doesn’t mean us any harm.”

Doppelganger. Not faux-Wells from their Earth. No danger. The words do nothing to quell the anxiety tightening in Hartley’s chest. He can’t look at that face without wanting to blast it to atoms. “I have to go.”

“Hartley!”

Barry must understand at least a little bit, because he gives Hartley enough of a head start to reach the elevator doors before catching up to him. When he runs up to Hartley’s side, he doesn’t grab him—good. Hartley feels too much like a caged animal to put up with being grabbed. “Hartley, it’s okay. I had that same reaction, but it’s okay.”

Right. Barry suffered more at faux-Wells’ hands than Hartley did. He has a right to be angry. Hartley is overreacting like the melodramatic, selfish, _worthless_ creature he is. “I-I can’t. I can’t look at him. If he’s here to help with Zoom, fine, let him help, but I can’t…I can’t be in the room with him.”

Barry nods and steps closer. He wraps gentle arms around Hartley and rocks him side to side. Hartley bites his lip hard enough to hurt to distract himself from the urge to push Barry away. Barry wants a hug. It shouldn’t be this hard to give him something so simple. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Barry murmurs. “I shouldn’t have made it sound like you did. I know how hard it is to look at that Harrison Wells and…and know he’s not the same but still think…” He shakes his head. “I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not him, and I only knew him for a year. You knew him a lot longer than that, of course it’s harder for you.”

No. Barry mustn’t think like that. The trauma faux-Wells inflicted on him was so much worse than anything he did to Hartley…no, of the two of them, of course Barry has more of a right to be upset. If only Hartley’s stupid panicking brain would get the message. 

“It’s not that. I’m just…” Hartley drags in a deep breath. Overreacting. Overreacting stupid brain. It’s fine, it’s fine, everything is _fine._ He just needs a few seconds to remind himself of that. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ve told you what he did to me, it’s nothing to get worked up about, this is stupid.”

“You told me he lied to you and manipulated you for nearly a decade,” Barry reminds him. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

Poor sweet thing, thinking Hartley has any right to ask for comfort from him. He shared those stories to make Barry feel more comfortable talking about his blatantly obvious, tangled feelings for faux-Wells, not to guilt him into expressing any kind of sympathy. “I’ll just…I’m going to go work in my lab. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Barry kisses him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna check up on you in a little while.”

“Not necessary.” Hartley manages a smile. The panic is finally receding—good. He had no right to it in the first place. “Do all the clever things you do. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

Barry looks unconvinced, but lets him go. “I love you,” he says again. “And I’m allowed to worry about you.”

Several times as he attempts to lose himself in his work, Hartley wishes Barry would come check on him. Each time, he scolds himself for the thought. Barry is busy. He shouldn’t have to worry about his overemotional…whatever they are.

When he hears footsteps in the hall, he perks up. They don’t sound quite right to be Barry’s—a little too slow, too measured, for his overeager speedster—but he’s not prepared for Harrison Wells to walk through the doorway. 

“Get the fuck out.” Hartley flings a screwdriver at him. It’s childish and unbecoming, but he mustn’t use his gauntlets if this Wells is indeed trying to help. 

“Not until you explain what he did.” Wells crosses his arms. “Look. I’m not this Thawne guy, whoever he was, and I’m already sick of everyone here punishing me for whatever he did to all of you. But none of the others tried to kill me when they saw me, which means you’ve got a hell of a grievance to get off your chest. So get it out. That way we can at least pretend to be civil.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation just because you’re wearing his face,” Hartley snaps. “Get the fuck out of my lab, and maybe then we can ‘pretend to be civil.’” He wants to turn away and dismiss him, but he doesn’t dare turn his back. He needs to keep this new Wells in view as long as he’s nearby. He won’t feel safe otherwise.

“Huh.” Wells makes a soft, startled sound. “You’re the pissed-off ex. What? You still miss him, even though by all accounts he sounds like an evil bastard?” He scoffs, not as though he’s trying to be insulting but as though the notion is ludicrous. “Was the sex that good?”

“The sex was fine.” Hartley braces himself against his workbench. “It might have been, oh, I don’t know, the kidnapping and near-starvation that did it? Because this may come as a surprise, but I figured out something was wrong _before_ your bastard not-a-doppelganger’s evil plan started, and he locked me up to make sure it went smoothly. So maybe you’ll forgive me if my first reaction to seeing your fucking face is to try to keep that from happening a third time.”

“He locked you up two separate times?” The other Wells looks distinctly uneasy. 

“Oh yeah. There was the first time, before the evil genius plan, and then the second time, when I came back for my revenge about the first time.” At least the second time, he’d been in a Pipeline cell, where most of the time someone other than faux-Wells had been watching. There had still been far too many occasions where he’d felt certain he was about to be killed for what he knew. Only his carefully cultivated habit of never saying what he meant to the team kept him alive—he’s certain of that. 

“Well.” Wells looks him up and down. “I guess that explains the lashing out. If I promise not to kidnap you, does that help?”

Hartley shakes his head and slowly relaxes his white-knuckled grip on the workbench. “No, not really.”

“Makes sense.” Now that Hartley is done snapping at him, Wells looks even more awkward. He manages a curt, “Glad we had this talk,” before vanishing from the lab. It’s a pleasant difference from faux-Wells, who would have said something too soothing in his eerily smooth voice. Hartley trusts the awkwardness more. 

He’ll never be at ease around this visiting Wells, but maybe, he muses as he relaxes back into his work, he’ll manage not to try to kill him the next time they cross paths.


End file.
